To Live Not As a Warrior
by Swordchucks
Summary: A twist of fate leads to a different ending to manga chapter 74/anime episode 25. Having failed to prove herself worthy, Motoko must pay the ultimate price and give up the sword. Of course, that was not the only price Tsuruko attached to failure...


To Live Not As a Warrior  
A Love Hina Fanfic  
Tim Williams (ffml_tim@yahoo.com fireangel37@yahoo.com)  
  
All characters and settings are copyright Ken Akamatsu, and others.  
Divergence from manga #74 (Volume 9) or anime episode 25. Fairly  
spoiler-ridden if you haven't seen or read that far, but not too badly  
so.  
  
+++  
  
//We lost.// The thought rang out in the darkness of her mind, filling  
her with cold horror. A few moments before, those words would have been  
unthinkable, but they were now immutable truth.  
  
//How...// Confusion flooded in, followed by doubt, and a vague feeling  
of nausea. The adrenaline of the battle was fading away, and only the  
ache of her injured leg remained. //I-I had it... but...// Victory had  
been within her grasp. She had literally tasted it. She had come so  
close to proving herself.  
  
//The sword... and then...// The demon contained in the sword called  
Hina had been sealed, but a chance slip as she landed from completing  
the act sent her sliding. Her ankle twisted alarmingly, and it was only  
by sheer luck that her ankle and knee had not shattered in her bad  
landing. Her sister had arisen first, the attack of the demon sword not  
being as strong as it had originally appeared. She faced her sister,  
and drained by the sealing and her fall, the Motoko had no choice but to  
surrender from her knees, the highest her aching leg would allow her to  
rise.  
  
//I lost... That means...// Tears welled up at the realization that not  
only must she face the all too familiar humiliation of defeat, but also  
pay the penalty for her failure. For a week, she had been tested, and  
on this, her last chance, she had been found lacking. She was not  
worthy of carrying on the Shinmeiryuu, so her sister had declared.  
  
Motoko shuddered as tears rolled down her face and gasp out the words  
which made her burn with even more shame. "I... have to... marry...  
Keitaro..." For a moment longer, she clutched the broken hilt of her  
Shisui, but the tears rolling down her face seemed to erode her last  
vestiges of resistance. After a few seconds, it clattered to the  
ground, the inch-long length of the severed blade managing to lodge  
itself into a crevice in the torn and broken ground.  
  
Planted in the ground like that, the hilt appeared as nothing so much as  
a memorial to the dead. And, in a way, it was. Aoyama Motoko was no  
more.  
  
+++  
  
Keitaro saw the hilt slide from Motoko's hand, but did not dare venture  
near her. After what he had just seen take place, he was not sure even  
his apparent immortality could compete with whatever anger must be  
raging inside the kendo girl. The realization of the price of their  
defeat had not begun to sink in.  
  
"Tsuruko-san..." he began, but trailed off as Motoko's sister looked at  
him. Even he could see the emotions written on her face were a mixture  
of disappointment and resignation. It was a look that clearly indicated  
that whatever had been going on was now over.  
  
"It is over," the older woman said, her mouth twisting unhappily as she  
gave a soft sigh. Somehow, she looked much older at that moment than  
she had before this last battle. It seemed almost as if something in  
her had died.  
  
"We still have till the end of the day... it's not over yet." He  
decided to risk Motoko's possible wrath and hobbled over to her kneeling  
form, the cast on his broken leg making the short move a chore. He  
placed a hand gently on her shoulder, though whether it was to comfort  
her or to steady himself, it wasn't clear. In either case, she did not  
try to shrug it off or rise. "Motoko, we can still win... If we work  
together."  
  
A faint quivering under his hand was the only response he received.  
With cold terror, he realized that Motoko was crying softly and  
silently. His eyes grew wide in shock, but his lips could not form  
words of protest. He knew that Motoko had already given up.  
  
"It is over," Tsuruko repeated, and this time, Keitaro know it for the  
truth.  
  
***  
  
"What? You can't really be serious about going through with this, can  
you?" Naru was almost as shocked as Keitaro when Motoko had finally  
risen. The girl didn't speak, but somehow managed to lean on Keitaro  
while leading him to the place her sister had prepared for the wedding  
ceremony, both at the same time.  
  
Motoko did not respond, and the grip she held on Keitaro's arm kept him  
from running, not that he would have made it far on a triple compound  
fracture, in any case. Tsuruko simply followed along behind them, that  
expression of resigned determination still on her face. Keitaro gave  
Naru a pleading look, but he did not dare struggle his way from the  
vice-like grip Motoko held him in.  
  
Motoko shrugged released her death-grip on Keitaro and sagged into a  
kneeling position on a silken cushion. She used one ragged end of her  
sleeve to wipe the tears and some of the grime from her face, leaving it  
flushed from the abrasion and her anxiety. Keitaro, freed from the only  
direct hindrance to a possible escape, looked about feverishly for an  
way out, but his time proved to be too short as Tsuruko came up behind  
him. The older sister gently but firmly took him away from Motoko and  
lead him to a similar cushion a few feet away.  
  
Keitaro sighed as he realized that he was also bound to his fate. He  
had known the price for failure when this started, but had thought of it  
so lightly then. He hadn't exacted to really fail, of course, but now  
that he had, the enormity of what he had agreed to was almost impossible  
to accept. However, he was sure that if he ran, either he or Motoko  
would end up dead. Possibly both.  
  
He wasn't afraid that Tsuruko would kill him or her sister, but Motoko  
was acting very oddly. She had been all too willing to commit seppuku a  
week before, and if he did not give in to this, he was afraid she would  
really do it. Everything he had seen in the last few minutes showed him  
a broken woman, one who might be capable of anything.  
  
Tsuruko, herself, appeared to be in mourning. In a way, he realized,  
she was. The Shinmeiryuu school and the Aoyama name were about to die  
for good. He kept feverishly hoping that she would call it all a joke,  
but she was too much of a warrior for that. She had said that failure  
meant marriage, and she followed a code that saw words as bindings  
stronger than steel.  
  
Once he had knelt, awkwardly with his broken leg, the ceremony started.  
  
The ceremony itself was like something out of a samurai manga. It was a  
traditional San-san-kudo ceremony, though without the frills that  
frequently found their way into modern versions. The cup was passed  
three times three times and they were wed. As simple as that.  
  
Three times three. So simple a thing was all it took to bind them  
together.  
  
***  
  
The train ride back to Tokyo passed in a silence so tense that other  
passengers could feel it and avoided them. The three of them sat on a  
pair of bench seats that faced each other, with Motoko at Keitaro's  
side. After the ceremony, their torn and soiled clothing had been  
exchanged for what Tsuruko provided. Both outfits were traditional but  
plain kimonos. Keitaro, unaccustomed to wearing such clothes kept  
shivering at the draft he got every time he shifted positions. Though  
really, he couldn't be certain which shivers were related to unexpected  
exposure and which were related to the calm, almost demure manner that  
Motoko had adopted.  
  
While Naru simply glared daggers at him, Motoko was silent and kept her  
hands folded almost daintily in her lap. The glare he understood. The  
glare he could deal with. Making it all worse, neither had spoken a  
word to him since the ceremony.  
  
The miles slipped past out the window, and the whole time the tension  
only grew more and more palpable. The situation would only grow worse  
when they reached the Hinatasou, he was sure. He wanted desperately to  
diffuse it somehow, but he didn't believe anything he could think of  
stood even a slight chance of working.  
  
The wedding wasn't legally binding, at least. No one had filed any  
papers to make it so, and he was fairly sure that Motoko would have  
needed a parent's seal, in any case, since she was only seventeen.  
Unfortunately, he knew Motoko well enough to know that there was no need  
for a legally binding contract when one based on society and tradition  
was in place. He had always admired her traditionalism before, but now  
it seemed like just one more obstacle to finding a way out of this mess.  
  
After all, he loved Naru. Didn't he?  
  
The look that she had been giving him made him doubt whether or not she  
had the same feelings. Certainly, it had been almost two months since  
he professed his love for her, and she had never responded. Did that  
mean she didn't feel the same way for him?  
  
But if she didn't have feelings for him, why was she glaring at him and  
his new "wife" so harshly? If she really didn't, though, maybe he was  
better off with Motoko.  
  
Giving up on understanding women, he let out a deep sigh and rested his  
head back on the seat. He closed his eyes and let the soft rocking of  
the train sooth him a little. During all of the hectic action and  
stress of the last week, he had failed to get much rest, and it did not  
take long for him to fall asleep.  
  
***  
  
The announcement for Hinata station rang out some time later and the  
trio disembarked. Naru vanished into the crowds almost the instant they  
set foot on the platform, and Keitaro found himself hobbling along  
beside a limping Motoko. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his  
crutches, and holding on to each other was about the only way either of  
them could move at all.  
  
To a bystander, they must have looked ludicrous, but Keitaro didn't try  
to make light of their situation. Since leaving the train, Motoko had  
been staring at a point about a meter forward of her feet and ignoring  
everything else. He was beginning to think that she really was broken  
in spirit, and that troubled him. For the last couple of years, he had  
had a lot of practice in dealing with female attitudes and emotions, but  
submission had never been one of them.  
  
//Maybe it won't be so bad,// he wondered to himself. //I'll play along  
for a few days, and she'll get back to her old self and we can just  
pretend none of that ever happened.// Even in his head, the thoughts  
didn't sound believable. Motoko was forbidden to practice the  
Shinmeiryuu, and that alone was enough to shake her to the very  
foundation.  
  
In a way, her family school had been her version of Toudai. All of her  
hopes and aspirations were tied up in that one thing, and it was like  
she had just found herself a fifth year ronin with declining exam  
scores. She would never make it into her dream, unless something  
miraculous happened.  
  
Keitaro thought feverishly about what could bring about such a change in  
fortune, but even at the snail's pace the two of them set, they were at  
the steps of the Hinatasou long before he could come up with anything  
reasonable. The steps seemed a fitting metaphor for what was happening  
to them. They were steep and treacherous in the dwindling daylight and  
they rose up almost out of sight. And he was standing at the bottom of  
them, a cripple without a crutch.  
  
They managed about a fifth of the climb before Keitaro had to sit down.  
A heavy mist was rolling in, which wasn't uncommon for a mid-spring  
night in the hot springs village. The water vapor only served to muffle  
what sounds could be heard from the city below and the inn above. He  
was more alone with Motoko now than he had been since the wedding.  
  
She was still staring off into space, not really appearing to see  
anything. He sighed and for a second, her eyes flickered to him. In  
that instant, he caught a ghost of emotion cross her face, and knew that  
he was not the only one worried. "I..." He gulped and tried to start  
again, his tongue wetting lips made dry by worry and fear. If only he  
could conjure up the words that would make everything better. "I will  
try my best... Motoko-san. I will not dishonor you."  
  
With some relief, he realized that she had relaxed a tiny bit, though it  
was just a teacup from the ocean. It wasn't much, he knew, but it was  
something.  
  
***  
  
Coming home had not been quite as bad as Keitaro had feared. Su and  
Sara, not really understanding what was going on were as bubbly as ever,  
but that was only to be expected. They didn't give Keitaro the usual  
kick, a concession to his broken leg, but they did manage to raise the  
volume level of the inn by several decibels. Kitsune and Haruka had  
simply given them knowing looks and nodded to each other, as though a  
missing piece of a puzzle had just fallen into place.  
  
Shinobu offered them both a big smile, but Keitaro had a feeling that  
from the glassy look in her eyes, she was more shocked than anything  
else. Keitaro idly wondered if he still had that look.  
  
As for Naru, there was no sign of her. The others seemed to know about  
the marriage, so it had to be assumed that she had been there at some  
point, though her current whereabouts were not indicated.  
  
Kitsune attempted to throw them a congratulations party, but Keitaro  
managed to talk them past it. He didn't feel like getting drunk right  
then, and he had a feeling that Motoko would fall apart if she drank at  
all. The girl's iron will seemed to be the only thing holding her  
together at that point.  
  
Carefully, Keitaro lead Motoko up to her room and saw that she was at  
least pointed toward her futon before stumbling his way back down to his  
own room. The day's activities had set his healing back several weeks,  
at least, and the pain lancing through his leg indicated that he would  
be paying a direct price for a few days.  
  
As the fatigue rushed in on him again, he barely managed to collapse on  
his own futon before darkness and dreams came up to meet him.  
  
***  
  
In the darkness, Keitaro dreamed of a woman, as beautiful and perfect as  
a sunrise smiling at him. She held out her hand to him and he flew  
toward her. Even in the dream, his leg was broken, but there he did not  
need it.  
  
As he grew closer to that shining female form, he realized that it was  
Naru and she was smiling at him. He darted forward to embrace her as  
she proclaimed her love for him, but as his arms closed around her form,  
she became Motoko instead. Nevertheless, the figure returned his  
embrace, warm hands sliding over his body.  
  
The dream became a little too real, and his eyes fluttered open in the  
darkness. The feel of hands on his body did not go away, and he  
realized that someone was giving him an expert massage. His back  
screamed out in relief as some of the day's tension slid away, but he  
forced himself to ignore his body's protests and pull away to roll over  
and face in the direction of the hands. It was then that he realized  
that he was naked and under the cover of the futon. And that he was not  
alone. And the person that he was not alone with was female. And the  
female person that he was not alone with was also not wearing any  
clothes.  
  
In the darkness, he wasn't sure who was in bed with him, and tried to  
evade the hands which were reaching out for him. In a small patch of  
light that could only be the result of a break in the clouds revealing  
the moon, he caught a flash of long black hair and knew that it must be  
his new wife. Gulping, he gently took her wrists in his hands.  
"Motoko... what are you doing in my bed?"  
  
He hadn't expected a response, so it was all the more surprising when  
she spoke. "Ura... Keitaro-san, I am doing a wife's duty." In the  
darkness, he blinked. Even though she tried to sound so demure, he  
could still hear some of the fire that had been in her voice before  
today's battle.  
  
"You don't... you don't have to do that for me. I..." While he had  
been talking, he had been paying a little less attention to her hands,  
and now one of them had found a rather intimate part of his anatomy.  
"Really... you..."  
  
She moved closer to him, and he gulped. With her hand... where it was,  
he felt powerless to stop her, though he wasn't certain that he wanted  
to stop her. "No..." he gasped out. She slid even closer and her  
warmth pressed against his chest His entire body quivered under and in  
her hands. "N-no..." he tried again, though it was weaker this time.  
  
Her hands, though inexperienced in the ways of love, were doing magical  
things to his body, and his mind fogged over. He felt content to be  
lead along by her soft but strong fumbling and whatever she was guiding  
him to, but suddenly the fog cleared and he froze. "No." This time, he  
said it with force and pushed her away from him and sat up.  
  
She tried to continue her press, but his sitting position foiled the  
attempt. He could feel her warmth, but he could also feel her  
trembling. She was terrified and crying. He didn't want her like that,  
though his body may have disagreed. He was a little surprised that  
there was a "like that" qualifier attached to the thought.  
  
"Keitaro... please..." she asked, almost pleadingly. A sob escaped her  
lips and Keitaro could tell that whatever impulse or need had been  
driving her on had broken.  
  
"Motoko... I..." he began, but there weren't words to express the  
maelstrom of emotion that was swirling through his head. She was  
apparently determined to follow through with the marriage, no matter  
what, but he didn't want his first time to be forced or out of  
necessity.  
  
"Keitaro... if I... if I am to live not as a warrior, then make me a  
woman..." Her voice trembled and her body against his carried the  
quiver. The heat of her form was still stirring up his baser urges, but  
this was something too important for him to mess up.  
  
"I... I can't..." he said, his own voice trembling a bit as well. There  
was silence for a few seconds, followed by the rustling of cloth.  
  
Another break in the clouds glinted off steel. Thinking that she meant  
to end her life, he groped desperately toward the flash he had seen, but  
encountered her hands instead, pressing something smooth and cylindrical  
into his hand. It felt like the hilt of a knife.  
  
"If you will not have me... then kill me, at least leave me a shred of  
dignity in death." She had grasped his wrist between her hands and  
placed it above her chest. Unseen resistance on the end of whatever he  
was holding indicated that she had probably placed the knife to her  
breast.  
  
"No!" he said, forcefully and a little louder than he intended. All the  
while, he struggled to twist his wrist free. In her current emotional  
state, Motoko clung to his hand tenaciously, but he eventually freed  
himself enough to toss the blade aside.  
  
As the knife clattered to the other side of the room he felt Motoko  
convulse into full fledged crying. Desperate to keep it from  
degenerating even farther, he pulled her to him, cradling her body  
against his. Somewhere in the exchange, his body's initial reactions  
had faded, leaving him free to hold her and comfort her.  
  
An hour later, he was gently rocking her in his arms, her sobs having  
faded slowly.  
  
At long last, she spoke again, her voice a little firmer than he had  
heard it so far that night. "K-Keitaro?"  
  
"Hm? Motoko?" The warmth of her body against his was beginning to feel  
almost comforting, even if the arousal from earlier had faded. All in  
all, it was almost... nice.  
  
"I... I am glad it was you." She shuddered as though it took effort to  
make the declaration. "Tsuruko could have... she would have forced me  
to marry anyone for failing like that... but you... you are not so  
horrible as other men."  
  
Though it was said with all seriousness, Keitaro couldn't help but  
laugh. He felt her tense and knew that it was the wrong thing to do.  
"Motoko. When we were training to defeat your sister... I have to admit  
that the thought of failing did not worry as much as it might have..."  
  
She seemed to relax a little at his words. "I will honor you, my  
husband."  
  
"I... I will honor you, as well... my wife..."  
  
The dawn broke shortly afterward, but they were not awake to see it.  
  
END?  
  
Author's Notes: The US translation of volume 9 of the Love Hina manga  
was released today, and I picked up my copy straight away. Chapters 72-  
74 are some of the most "exciting" in the manga, and I realized that it  
was almost required to write a fic about what could have happened. So I  
set myself a goal and this is the result. This fic is a complete work  
(unlike everything else I've ever done), but that's not to say that I  
might not attempt a sequel at some point.  
  
On another note, I wanted to make the woman in his bed Naru, but I  
couldn't see it being in character. I just don't think she would  
respond that way to Keitaro being married. It would have made for a  
much more interesting bit, though. It doesn't take much work to spot  
the bit where it could have turned into a lemon, either. But I am  
strong in the not-so-dark side of the force. And stuff.  
  
If you are interested in my sources, I used the following for  
information on the social and legal aspects of weddings in Japan. It  
may be different in reality, and, if so, please send me a note or link  
with better info. What I found was sketchy, at best.  
  
Marriage ceremonies in Japan:  
  
.  
html  
  
Legal aspects of marriage in Japan:  
  
  
  
As always, general comments, "I read it, you suck" notes, C&C or just  
about anything else is more than welcome. Contact points are  
ffml_tim@yahoo.com and fireangel37@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading! 


End file.
